


The Face of a Soldier

by Gyakugire



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War I, Armistice, Christmas Truce of 1914, M/M, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3151904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gyakugire/pseuds/Gyakugire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No Man’s Land is as it always is—disgusting, with the stench of death sinking into the ground. Above all that, though, is the unmistakable sight of two German soldiers. They’re chatting with one of the men Levi enlisted with, and for a moment, he tenses up. Levi takes a shaky breath, and reminds himself that there’s no fighting tonight. These are just people. They’re not Germans, they’re people. </p><p>WWI 1914 Christmas Truce Eruri</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Face of a Soldier

Levi sits, slumped in the mud and the filth of the Belgian trenches, wet coat weighing him down even further. His gloves are thin, and holes are beginning to wear in the fabric. He pretends that they keep him warm, but he knows that he can’t feel his fingers, and that he probably has a serious case of trench foot. 

Still, he holds his gun close to him, running his numbed fingers over its finer details. It’s beautiful, for something meant to kill. He adjusts his wet cap, and leans against the dirt wall. It’s fucking disgusting, and he curses himself for enlisting, not that he had much of a choice.

He knows it’s Christmas Eve, and earlier, he heard generals talking of a temporary truce, but there’s no way that he’s about to step out there first. He knows the Germans are crafty bastards, and the last thing he needs is to get his brains blown out. Levi waits until the soldier next to him hoists himself up and out of the trench, and reluctantly, he follows behind. 

No Man’s Land is as it always is—disgusting, with the stench of death sinking into the ground. Above all that, though, is the unmistakable sight of two German soldiers. They’re chatting with one of the men Levi enlisted with, and for a moment, he tenses up.

Levi takes a shaky breath, and reminds himself that there’s no fighting tonight. These are just people. They’re not _Germans_ , they’re _people_. He reminds himself of that a few more times, and glances up to look at the rain, now snow, that’s falling from the sky.

He’s glad for the army’s decision—it’s too damned cold to fight today, anyway. He rubs his hands together to try and generate some warmth, but the gloves are wet and he wonders if maybe he’d just be better off without them.

Still, he’s doing much better than most of the soldiers he sees. Some of them have ice stuck to their beards, and others are shivering in their thin, beat up coats. Levi, though much the same, at least has warm underclothes. 

He spots a German soldier—a tall, muscular blond man without his hat, shivering next to one of his friends near the German trenches. Levi’s stomach twists at the idea of going so far away from his own trench, but convinces himself that this man will freeze without some sort of help, and marches himself over.

It’s better to be shot than to freeze to death, or at least Levi thinks so. He takes his hat off of his head, though it’s soaked. It’s all he has, so it will have to do. He has no idea if this man speaks French, or if he has any idea what Levi is trying to do, but he stands in front of him, and takes a deep breath. “If I could warm up a cup of tea, I’d give you that. A wet hat is pretty shitty,” Levi mutters, but hands him the damned thing anyways. It’s a worn old thing, something he’s had for years.

The man holds up his hand, motioning for Levi to stop, and smiles softly.  He’s friendly, and Levi doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want German soldiers to remind him of this face. It’s hard, to kill kind people. Hell, it’s hard to kill just plain old _people_. “You keep it. You’ll need it later.” He can speak, and something about that pisses Levi off. It shouldn’t, because he knows German and English, but he still feels the all too familiar feeling of irritation in the pit of his stomach.

“And you won’t?” Levi snaps. It’s cold enough to snow, and cold enough to get frostbite. “What the hell are you going to do if they have to chop your ears off because they’re too damned cold?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll just have a cigarette to warm up,” he decides, and pulls a silver, expensive looking tin from his pocket, and flicks it open. “Want one?” 

Stepping away from it like it’s poison, Levi crinkles up his nose and turns his face away. “No, they look expensive. You keep them.” 

The German lets out a short laugh, and pushes the tin further towards Levi. “Take one, I insist. It’s only the container, the cigarettes are just plain old things,” he says, and glances at the soldiers mingling on the field. “I’m Erwin.”

“Levi.”

Erwin slips a cigarette between his lips, and hands the container to Levi. The smaller soldier slips one out of the container, and lets Erwin light it for him. It feels good, to be able to smoke again. The smell, at the very least, will cover up some of the other stenches surrounding them. “You have family back home?” Levi asks, taking a long drag from the cigarette and looking at the night sky. It’s too damned bad that they have to be here on Christmas. For weeks, he’s been listening to his fellow soldiers complain about missing their wives, their friends, their parents. 

“My parents, and a sister,” Erwin says with a shrug. “Yourself?” 

Levi shakes his head, and looks away. It’s embarrassing, joining the army because he has nowhere to go. “Nothing.”

“Ah. I’m sorry.”

Levi shrugs. “It’s not your fault.”

Erwin stays silent for a long time, contemplating. He looks around at the other men, watching some bury comrades, while others play sports and drink. “Got a girl?” Levi asks with another puff of smoke.

“No,” Erwin replies, but smiles. 

“Oh, you look like you would.”

Erwin shrugs. “I have other interests.”

“What, you got one of those disorders where you like to fuck men?” Levi asks, rolling his eyes. 

Erwin lets out a loud laugh, and pulls out his canteen. “If that’s what you call it. Brandy?”

Levi’s stomach twists, and he feels butterflies in his torso. Wordlessly, he takes the canteen and takes a large sip, wincing ever so slightly at the alcohol’s burn. “Interesting,” is all Levi says, and takes another sip. “Thanks.”

“You have a girl?” 

Levi shakes his head. “I have a disorder,” he says with a smirk, and he sees an odd sort of look come over Erwin’s face, like he’s trying to decipher Levi. Does he think it’s a joke? Levi tilts his head to the side, and tries his best to smile, but it feels strange so he settles on a slight smirk.

Erwin lights another cigarette, and Levi figures that they must come from home often. Otherwise, there’s no reason to waste cigarettes today, of all times. 

They sit on the ground, ignoring the mud and the filth, and talk. It’s nothing fancy, just chat about home, and their jobs before the army. He likes the way Erwin talks, and they way he looks. Sure, he’s spot on German, but his strong jawline and bright eyes make him want to smile. For a soldier, he’s not bad. Levi hates to remind himself, but they all extend past their uniforms. 

The alcohol makes his chest warm, and he watches Erwin drink. He’s a beautiful man, but Levi can’t stop thinking about what it would look like for him to bleed out with a bullet in his head. It’s disgusting, and he wants to puke, but everywhere he looks, he sees death.

He thinks about storming back over to the trenches and hiding himself until Christmas is over, but Erwin’s hand is on top of his, and whether it’s intentional or not, Levi feels bad about pulling away. He takes another one of Erwin’s cigarettes and rolls it around in his hand before letting it sit on his lips. The German lights it, and he takes a long drag from it. 

“It’s half past eleven,” Levi finally says, though he’s not exhausted in the least. 

“Are you tired?” 

“We should rest. It might be the last chance we have for a while,” he murmurs, and Erwin seems to accept this.

The blond nods, and turns his back to Levi, giving the smaller man a perplexed look when he doesn’t do the same. “Turn around, we’ll sleep this way.”

“Huh?”  
“Did you want to go back to the trenches? They stink, and you’ll catch a disease down there.”

Now, it’s Levi’s turn to stare. His mouth moves for an excuse, but no noise comes out. Slowly, he imitates Erwin, and leans against his back. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s better than sleeping in the same dirt and filth they’ve been in for weeks. He’s exhausted from all the fighting, and manages to force himself to sleep.

It’s not comfortable, and he wakes up a few hours later, face on the ground, but slightly warmer. He blinks his eyes open, and they sting, but he forces himself into a more alert state and sits up, only to find a blanket draped over him with Erwin sitting beside him, another one wrapped around his shoulders. “Where did these come from?”

Erwin shrugs. “A couple of guys were giving them out. Much better than getting frostbite.”

“Too bad they’ll be useless once they’re in the trenches.”

Erwin shrugs. “They’ll work for now.”

Still, Levi is unreasonably cold, but is thankful for the gesture. He pulls the blanket tight around himself, and he can smell the brandy on Erwin’s breath. “Have you been drinking all night?”

“You’ve only been asleep for three hours.”

“Ah.” 

“Want some more?” Erwin pushes more brandy into Levi’s hands, and he takes a long drink. 

Levi winces at the burn, but forces himself to laugh. “What, are you trying to get me drunk so I have a shitty hangover tomorrow?”

“If it means you won’t shoot straight, maybe it’s not too bad of an idea,” Erwin shoots back, and takes another drink. Levi can’t tell if the man is drunk, or if he just can’t make good jokes. 

Still, Levi smirks, and shuts his eyes again. “This is awful,” he finally murmurs, and shakes his head. “I’m fucking cold.”

“I think everyone is.”

Levi laughs bitterly, and Erwin pulls his own blanket tighter. “This is a fucking mess, you know. We’re going to slaughter each other.”

Erwin shrugs. “It’s not our decision to make.”

“It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?” Levi snarls, and takes another sip of Erwin’s drink. “There’s still bodies everywhere, and I can’t get the fucking blood out of my head. Who’s decision was that, Erwin?” 

He can’t tell if Erwin disagrees, or if he’s upset by the look on Levi’s face, but either way, he lets his fingers brush over the smaller man’s shoulder. “I hope that it ends soon, for your sake.”

“You shouldn’t be kind to me.”

“Why?”

“I’m French.”

“Makes no difference to me.”

Levi doesn’t like where the conversation is going, and looks up at the sky. The clouds are beginning to part, thank God. Maybe, it’s going to warm up a little .”What do the men do in between battles?” 

Erwin tilts his head, thinking, and Levi catches a glimpse of light bouncing against his eyes. He feels something welling up in his stomach. Regret? Guilt? “There’s an Austrian fellow that likes to paint, he talks about it all the time,” Erwin muses.

“He paints in the trenches?” Levi asks stupidly, already knowing the answer to his question. He’s embarrassed for asking it, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. 

“Of course not. But he never stops mentioning it. Art and politics, that’s all he’s about.”

“But when you’re down there, what do you do to pass the time?”  
Erwin shrugs. “We smoke, and we write home. Mostly, we sit.”

“I guess it’s the same for us.”

Levi gets up, and wipes his face off on his sleeve. He can tell there’s dirt on his face, and he feels stupid for letting it sit here. “What will you do, after the war is over?”

“I’ll go home. Maybe I’ll save some money and open up a shop.”  
Erwin raises a brow. “What sort of shop?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Doesn’t matter to me. Something small. Enough to get by,” Levi murmurs. “You’ll work too, won’t you?”

“My father wants me to be a politician. Or I’ll advance in the army.”

“Right after a war? You’ll be digging your own grave, stupid,” Levi mutters. He doesn’t like the idea of Erwin being like this for the rest of his life. He pictures him owning a bakery, maybe, or working for a family business. Somewhere were kind, warm people belong. Not in politics or the military. “I’m still tired.”

“Go back to sleep. It’s only five.”

“That’s late,” Levi murmurs, but lets himself sink back to the ground so that he can rest. 

He floats in and out of consciousness, sometimes opening his eyes for a few seconds at a time, or other times listening to the voice around him until he drifts back to sleep. It feels good to rest. When he finally wakes up, he lets Erwin lie down so that he can rest some.

Levi hates how quickly the day goes by. It’s relaxing, to not worry about fighting, but it makes him sick to know that there’s a face to the soldier now. There’s a face to the previously mindless German monster. Erwin’s soft blue eyes and hard features didn’t belong in this war, and he felt wrong for his position, for his requirement to fight.

Farlan distracts him, and sits by him for a while, sweaty from a game of ball that a few of the men were paying. “It’s almost time to go back, you know.”

Levi nods, and sees Erwin’s eyes flutter open. He feels sick. He doesn’t want to kill anymore, but he needs to protect the friends he enlisted with, the men that stuck their necks out for him time and time again. 

“Is this your friend?” Erwin says, but his voice his hoarse. Levi thinks he sounds stupid, and he has to keep himself from laughing. 

“Yes,” Levi replies simply, and Farlan extends an arm to shake hands. 

“Farlan Church. Have you two been sitting here all day?” he asks, swatting at the blanket over Levi’s shoulders .”At least you look warm.”

They exchange simple talk, and Levi knows that Farlan is sizing Erwin up. Armistice or not, he can’t stand Germans. He wants to protect Belgium, and more importantly, France. He goes back to play ball, but doesn’t understand that he is separating the soldier from the war. These are the people he’ll be fighting regardless. 

“Have you two known each other long?” Erwin asks, eyes following the man as he talks to a couple of French and German soldiers.

“Almost my whole life.”

“You enlisted together?”

Levi shrugs. “We didn’t have much of a choice.” 

Erwin nods. His fingers brush over Levi’s fingers, and the smaller man winces at the cold touch. Still, he doesn’t pull away. “Thank you for keeping me company, Levi.”

“God, don’t make it a big fucking deal,” the French soldier spits, but is glad that Erwin said it. “We have to go back to our trenches soon anyway—the sun is setting.”

“It’s a shame, that we’ll have to fight again so soon.”

Levi shrugs. “Maybe this shit will be over soon.” Erwin nods, and Levi can see him turning his cigarette tin over and and over in his hands. “Hm?”

“Take this,” the German murmurs, and pushes it into Levi’s hands. 

“No, it’s expensive. If you don’t want it, sell it after the war.” Assuming that he even makes it that far. 

“Well, of course I want it.”

Levi raises a brow. He doesn’t want to seem stupidly confused, so he tries to look like he knows what Erwin is talking about. “Huh?” he chokes out anyway, and wants to punch himself. Fucking stupid.

“I want you to take it.” 

“You should keep it.”

“Please?” 

Levi doesn’t know if it’s the tone of Erwin’s voice, or the look on his face, but he eventually sighs and pockets the cigarette container. “Thanks, I guess,” he grumbles, but feels sick. “I don’t have anything to give you.”

Erwin smiles, and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I don’t need anything.”

Levi stares for a long time, and the sun has long since gone, but he can’t seem to get his feet to fucking move. He can hear Farlan’s voice, and he knows he should go. “I have to—“

“I understand. I should be going back, too.”

Levi’s head is spinning, but Erwin gives him a firm squeeze on the shoulder and he tries to stabilize himself. He doesn’t want to go back. He doesn’t want to fight. This war is filthy, gross, violent, ruthless, disgusting. 

Still, Levi purses his lips, and dips back down into the trenches without looking back. He’s greeted by the lick of too cold water at the heels of his shoes, and the all too familiar stink that’s ingrained into the dirt. Hell. He is back in hell. He loads his gun, and waits until his general gives the signal. Twelve o’ one, December twenty sixth.

Levi sticks the gun over the edge of the trench and fires, praying that he doesn’t have to see the body of that man bleeding out. The tin of cigarettes feels heavy in his pocket. All of them, in the end, are nothing more than humans. All fighting for something, all struggling to survive. He hears screaming, and the sound of a grenade. The lump in his throat gets worse, and he forces himself to swallow.

The bullets stop for a moment. They struggle ceased, and they all catch their breath. Levi slips the tin of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Damn, did the family send you those? They look expensive,” his friend Farlan says, repositioning himself next to Levi. 

Levi shakes his head, and pulls one of the cigarettes out, lighting it quickly.  “Got it from one of the bastards over there.” Farlan rubs his hands together, breathing a mouthful of hot air into them. “You should be wearing your gloves, you’ll have enough time to put them on before we fire again.” His comrade nods in agreement, and fumbles for his gloves, slipping them onto his practically blue fingers. Somehow, they haven’t gotten wet yet, and Levi envies that. He’s surprised that the fabric on his hands haven’t frozen to his fingers, at the very least.

“Was he dead?”

Levi laughs, and loads his gun, relishing in the taste of his smoke. “He didn’t want them. I guess it’s a Christmas gift.” He pulls another one out, and hands it to Farlan. The soldier gives him a knowing smile, and takes one. “They’re good.”

“I can’t get my head around it, firing at these guys now,” Farlan says absentmindedly, fumbling around with the cigarette between his lips. He lights it, and pulls himself to his feet.

“It’s war, none of this shit makes sense.” His fingers trace over the pattern of the tin, raising a brow when he spots a piece of paper tucked inside. He pulls it out, and flips it over, unimpressed. A tattered piece of paper. Why the hell is that in there? 

An address. It’s barely legible, but it’s an address nonetheless. Levi folds it up, and crams it back into the tin. His vision shifts again, and this time, he loses the contents of his stomach, adding to the filth that’s surrounding him. He sees Farlan crinkle his nose, but he ignores it.

He wants to forget. There’s a face to the soldier, and he can’t get rid of it. 

“Levi, what’s up?” 

“Just nerves.”  
Farlan pulls out his canteen and holds it to Levi’s lips until he drank. “You have too much alcohol in your system or something?” His eyes drift down, and he catches note of the paper inside of the cigarette tin. “What’s that?”

“An address, I think.”

“That’s what you’re getting so worked up over, isn’t it? You don’t have time for that, Levi. We’re going to start fighting again any minute, and you’re sitting here worried about that stupid oaf that you met over there.” When Levi says nothing, Farlan scowls, and spits into the water of the trench. “How the hell do you get yourself so invested in these things?”

Levi shrugs, and makes sure his gun is ready. “Do you think he’ll make it?”

Farlan purses his lips, and taps Levi’s shoulder with the butt of his gun. “Worry about everyone over here, first.”

The general gives the signal, and Levi starts firing again, trying to take the face away from the soldier. 


End file.
